Inspiration and models for good living surround us. I believe that you simply have to find some quiet space in your life... to look and listen. Then, like The Field of Dreams, "They will come.” All sorts of Turkish Delights.
In elementary school, I idolized Nancy Drew and Harriet the Spy. In those ladies’ worlds, wearing pumps was natural and somehow practical for solving mysteries. Hiding in dumbwaiters and eavesdropping on conversations seemed like a perfect adventure, and keeping a notepad tucked carefully inside a coat pocket felt safely scandalous.
In high school, I let go of those fantasies. Fitting in made more sense. Not sure I did a whole lot of listening to the universe during those years. Then came college, which presented some diversity in thinking and doing. Still, I floundered around like a fish out of water, never really certain of where I belonged. That continued for MANY years.
Now, I feel like I have reverted back to my childhood. Albeit, a more responsible childhood. Being surrounded by children everyday helps with that. Each morning, I am repeatedly amazed at how kids can turn my entire day around when they walk into the classroom. They smile, joke, and proudly tell me great stories about their lives. Kids have a refreshing honesty. They find happiness in the smallest pleasures. Their eyes ignite and sparkle at the tiniest wonder. When a topic of interest is presented, these miniature people can become incredibly passionate about LEARNING!! Many of these children already experience the harsh realities of life, and yet so many of them exhibit a remarkable resilience. They are simple, yet complex.
A dichotomy.
Children, in my limited experience, are the opposite of a cliché’, a non sequitur. Just when I think I have even one THEM figured out…Wham! Someone will throw a wrench in my bicycle spokes. Recently, I had to apologize to a student. I forgot to filter my sense of humor, and I hurt someone’s feelings. Teachers are human too; we make mistakes. I make a lot of them. I try to learn from them, become more sensitive, and offer a genuine request for forgiveness. I’m sure there are many toes I’ve unintentionally smashed without making amends.
Last year, my life was a noisy clamor. I couldn’t hear the whispers, despite their attempts to penetrate my ear canal. Words, spoken or written, made much less impact on me then. That is a shameful admission. I was so busy forming my responses that I wasn’t paying attention to what people were saying, the meaning behind their words. I’m pretty sure I was only half listening to everyone around me. How awful! I am trying to improve on that this year.
I don’t want my life to be a race. I hope it could be an experience to savor. I realize the patented trademark, Life is Good, is a luxury not afforded to most of the human population. How egocentric to think life is a blessing! Right now millions of people are suffering. How am I helping them? I am living a euphoric lifestyle of teaching, socializing, reading, thinking, writing, running, and EATING. How can a handful of humans enjoy life, when the majority can’t even find a way to meet their basic needs?
A few nights ago a friend helped me identify constellations in the night sky using StarWalk. I am continually amazed by such applications. It still blows my mind (for lack of a better expression) at the exponential way in which technology grows. And then, there's the upcoming Project Natal.
The first link (below) is an updated version of the video, which taught us that students are being educated for jobs that don’t even exist yet. I just watched this new version on Monday at the first session of a fall graduate course. For me, it was a stark reminder of the increasingly competitive and globalized world we live in. The second link is a cliff notes version of a contemporary book, which attempts to explain the current shift from industrial labor to technological careers. It explains the deeper reasons for outsourcing American jobs.
Did you know?
The Third Wave
I can’t help but wonder if these progressive thinkers are issuing a prediction for the obsolete future of my own employment. If so, I hope I can reconfigure my mindset and find a place in the next wave.
What interesting times we live in!
Oh, and IF I had an iPhone, I would WANT: Dragon Dictation, Card Star, and Good Guide. How selfish!
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
Support Systems
When I was a kid, I had the BEST babysitter. She was a supermodel, dreamer, caretaker, writer, confidant, inspiration, and a second pseudo mom. Stepping into my mom's white tennis Reebok sneakers (not literally), she fulfilled the spectrum of matronly duties while my own mother was going back to college to be…big surprise here: an elementary teacher!
My babysitter made whatever my brother and I wanted for lunch: toasted, golden grilled cheese sandwiches cut into trianlges and perfectly placed on either side of a warm and creamy bowl of tomato soup. We gallivanted across the street to the pool every day in the summer. While we lunged and splashed in the chlorinated water, she read an array of novels. Before and after the pool, she even let us watch MTV. I admired the beauty of her handwriting so much, that I would spend hours at our kitchen table attempting to form my letters just like hers, making them slant like palm trees in the wind.
She talked to us like real people, not babies. She listened to us and valued what we had to say. A child advocate, she was always looking out for the best interest of her little people. A diplomat, mediator, and lawyer…she skillfully convinced my mother to let us have a kitty! Our first and only pet (besides the short-lived iguana), a tiger cat, named Snickers. Our teenage mom was the coolest, most supreme babysitter! I put her on a pedestal, and she’s still there.
So life goes on…over the weekend, my babysitter sent me an email wanting to know if my brother was okay. She had seen some pictures of him on Facebook, and she was worried. Her care for us didn’t end with our stumbled and rocky stride into adulthood. Jake and I are just now getting our sea legs. I guess we're just late bloomers.
We’ve both lost fathers, my babysitter and I, and I think it changed us and created an unspoken bond.
Ironically, Jake also contacted me over the weekend. He wanted to inquire about how to go back to school for a graduate degree. My brother is doing well. That is not a line of bull pucky. He moved to Rifle, Colorado in June.
His dream.
I pushed him, maybe unfairly, after we traveled there together last summer. I wanted to be able to live vicariously through him. He is an avid outdoorsman. I wonder if he could have been a close friend with John Muir. He takes things to extremes with his sub-zero temperature, one-man sleeping bag cover that he calls a “tent.” I also love nature, but I am not quite as daring as he is. He makes for a much better story.
Jake, still a kid, not a self-absorbed teenager like me, was smart enough to take advantage of a trip out West with my Grammy and Grampy Schmouder in the 90's. So, when we went to Colorado together last summer, he was my tour guide. I kept expressing my amazement (in overly dramatic outbursts) at the landscape, and Jake, kept bringing me down to Earth. I think he even said he wanted to take my camera and smash it underneath his foot. I was THAT kind of annoying tourist.
I love my brother more than anything in this world. We are incredibly different people, and yet we are the same. My babysitter knew this about us eons ago. My brother was the charismatic charmer. He would fearlessly walk up to a new acquaintance and announce, “Hi! My name is Jake,‘Jake the Snake,’ and I am going to knock your block off.” His innate desire to solve potential problems with fisticuffs, forced my parents to cringe while the victim of his verbal barrage gave a careful, intimidated laugh.
Jake and I connect in a way that I suppose only siblings can understand. I tend to get defensive on his behalf, even when I know he is wrong. I like to hope he feels the same way about me. It’s indescribable to know we have each other’s backs.
So, the truth about Jake is that he has worked as an assistant manager for Wal-Mart in Gettysburg for the last five years, ever since he graduated from Shippensburg University. The safe route was for him to transfer to Rifle, Colorado with THEM to pursue a dream of Rocky Mountain life. That is exactly what he did this past spring.
His Saturn wagon tires were probably still warm from driving across the country when he realized he HATED it. Not Colorado. Wal-Mart. Which, was what I secretly hoped would happen all along. I try not to voice my jaded ideas often, but I am not a fan of Wal-Mart. Yes, I am a hypocrite. I shop there. Still, I don’t feel the need to validate my opinion with an explanation.
This post isn’t about Wal-Mart. I have an older blog post that has already addressed my reasons for corporate mistrust. I don't want to beat a dead horse here. Tonight I want to reflect on lessons in life. My little kid brother is temporarily without employment. So what?! It’s not the end of the world. He is avidly searching. He has a small stash of cash to get him through the interim. He is persistent and he knows how to persevere. I am not losing too much sleep worrying about his situation. He is self-sufficient. He is a work horse. And if he is unsuccessful, I know it won’t be from lack of trying. If all his avenues are exhausted, he can move home and stay with me. I still have plenty of home renovation project ideas up my sleeve to keep him busy.
His bachelor’s degree is in environmental science. He is smart and much more outgoing than I could have ever dreamed of being. We had a great upbringing. No, it wasn’t perfect, but we were LOVED. As a result, we now know how to love others, and we stick to our guns.
No one I know likes to be told what to do….unless they’re experiencing a crisis and looking for direction. Insecurity breeds unseen arm flailing. Even people who appear to have their lives together from the outside picture window, might be a blubbering mess inside. I know people who are gorgeous and successful, yet they still grasp at straws in their personal lives. Lowering one's standards for crappy companionship doesn’t typically lead to a happily ever after type of ending. I am not judgmental. I know it's not always easy to be alone, and I have stayed in relationships just to have the security of someone being physically present.
I admire women who hold out for awhile and select life partners based on personality compatibility rather than on exclusive physical attraction. What will matter when you’re 70? Tattered pictures of your vain and inflated youth or a lasting emotional connection?
I also had one of the best college roommates. I was clueless at the time, but looking back in the rearview mirror; I now know that she was masquerading as a life lesson. I was being groomed on how to stop trying to fit in with everyone else. She taught me that if you get left out of a group or shut out of a relationship, it’s not because you’re deficient, broken, or because you need to change something about yourself.
Unless, of course, you have controllable hygiene problems or you’re a mean person.
Then you should change.
My freshman roommate at Susquehanna University was a real musician, thinker, writer, reader, student, and spiritualist. But more importantly, she was a GOOD person. She frequently put others before herself. She would waylay her studies to counsel or encourage a friend. Handpicking her words, she would craft letters and notes to a cornucopia of friends. Why? To brighten their day and make them feel important.
This was another person I placed high upon a pedestal. She was everything I wanted to be, but wasn’t. Playing her guitar for hours, she would serenade me with her song. Yet, she too experienced self-doubt, as we all do at some point in life. I think her desire to achieve perfection and originality burnt her out. She took a break from school for awhile. This didn’t stop me. I still wanted to be her. I admired her resolve.
Her Mom said she was the "happiest sad girl" she had ever met.
I hope she is just a happy girl now.
Hmm…
My favorite folk-music group, The Weepies, is the background music for my thoughts tonight. Their music also fits with the end of one of the best long weekends in my life.
Thunder rumbles in the distance, a quiet intensity
I am willful, your insistence is tugging at the best of me
You're the moon, I'm the water
You're Mars, calling up Neptune's daughter
Sometimes rain that's needed falls
We float like two lovers in a painting by Chagall
All around is sky and blue town
We live so high above the ground, satellites surround us.
I am humbled in this city
There seems to be an endless sea of people like us
Wakeful dreamers, I pass them on the sunlit streets
In our rooms filled with laughter
We make hope from every small disaster
Everybody says "you can't, you can't, you can't, don't try."
Still everybody says that if they had the chance they'd fly like we do.
Labor Day has come to an end.
Back to school tomorrow.
How does this rambling blog post relate to education?
Kids who believe in themselves, know who they are, and have a strong support system are more likely to have the confidence and inner strength to resist peer pressure. I don't know if that statement is supported by research or DATA. Frankly, I don't care. I simply believe that children brought up with people who genuinely care about them and are involved in their lives will be more inclined to exhibit compassion, tolerance, and kindness. Better chances of becoming a thoughtful leaders.
All things this world needs more of.
Time to get off my soap box for the night.
Good night, Buster.
My babysitter made whatever my brother and I wanted for lunch: toasted, golden grilled cheese sandwiches cut into trianlges and perfectly placed on either side of a warm and creamy bowl of tomato soup. We gallivanted across the street to the pool every day in the summer. While we lunged and splashed in the chlorinated water, she read an array of novels. Before and after the pool, she even let us watch MTV. I admired the beauty of her handwriting so much, that I would spend hours at our kitchen table attempting to form my letters just like hers, making them slant like palm trees in the wind.
She talked to us like real people, not babies. She listened to us and valued what we had to say. A child advocate, she was always looking out for the best interest of her little people. A diplomat, mediator, and lawyer…she skillfully convinced my mother to let us have a kitty! Our first and only pet (besides the short-lived iguana), a tiger cat, named Snickers. Our teenage mom was the coolest, most supreme babysitter! I put her on a pedestal, and she’s still there.
So life goes on…over the weekend, my babysitter sent me an email wanting to know if my brother was okay. She had seen some pictures of him on Facebook, and she was worried. Her care for us didn’t end with our stumbled and rocky stride into adulthood. Jake and I are just now getting our sea legs. I guess we're just late bloomers.
We’ve both lost fathers, my babysitter and I, and I think it changed us and created an unspoken bond.
Ironically, Jake also contacted me over the weekend. He wanted to inquire about how to go back to school for a graduate degree. My brother is doing well. That is not a line of bull pucky. He moved to Rifle, Colorado in June.
His dream.
I pushed him, maybe unfairly, after we traveled there together last summer. I wanted to be able to live vicariously through him. He is an avid outdoorsman. I wonder if he could have been a close friend with John Muir. He takes things to extremes with his sub-zero temperature, one-man sleeping bag cover that he calls a “tent.” I also love nature, but I am not quite as daring as he is. He makes for a much better story.
Jake, still a kid, not a self-absorbed teenager like me, was smart enough to take advantage of a trip out West with my Grammy and Grampy Schmouder in the 90's. So, when we went to Colorado together last summer, he was my tour guide. I kept expressing my amazement (in overly dramatic outbursts) at the landscape, and Jake, kept bringing me down to Earth. I think he even said he wanted to take my camera and smash it underneath his foot. I was THAT kind of annoying tourist.
I love my brother more than anything in this world. We are incredibly different people, and yet we are the same. My babysitter knew this about us eons ago. My brother was the charismatic charmer. He would fearlessly walk up to a new acquaintance and announce, “Hi! My name is Jake,‘Jake the Snake,’ and I am going to knock your block off.” His innate desire to solve potential problems with fisticuffs, forced my parents to cringe while the victim of his verbal barrage gave a careful, intimidated laugh.
Jake and I connect in a way that I suppose only siblings can understand. I tend to get defensive on his behalf, even when I know he is wrong. I like to hope he feels the same way about me. It’s indescribable to know we have each other’s backs.
So, the truth about Jake is that he has worked as an assistant manager for Wal-Mart in Gettysburg for the last five years, ever since he graduated from Shippensburg University. The safe route was for him to transfer to Rifle, Colorado with THEM to pursue a dream of Rocky Mountain life. That is exactly what he did this past spring.
His Saturn wagon tires were probably still warm from driving across the country when he realized he HATED it. Not Colorado. Wal-Mart. Which, was what I secretly hoped would happen all along. I try not to voice my jaded ideas often, but I am not a fan of Wal-Mart. Yes, I am a hypocrite. I shop there. Still, I don’t feel the need to validate my opinion with an explanation.
This post isn’t about Wal-Mart. I have an older blog post that has already addressed my reasons for corporate mistrust. I don't want to beat a dead horse here. Tonight I want to reflect on lessons in life. My little kid brother is temporarily without employment. So what?! It’s not the end of the world. He is avidly searching. He has a small stash of cash to get him through the interim. He is persistent and he knows how to persevere. I am not losing too much sleep worrying about his situation. He is self-sufficient. He is a work horse. And if he is unsuccessful, I know it won’t be from lack of trying. If all his avenues are exhausted, he can move home and stay with me. I still have plenty of home renovation project ideas up my sleeve to keep him busy.
His bachelor’s degree is in environmental science. He is smart and much more outgoing than I could have ever dreamed of being. We had a great upbringing. No, it wasn’t perfect, but we were LOVED. As a result, we now know how to love others, and we stick to our guns.
No one I know likes to be told what to do….unless they’re experiencing a crisis and looking for direction. Insecurity breeds unseen arm flailing. Even people who appear to have their lives together from the outside picture window, might be a blubbering mess inside. I know people who are gorgeous and successful, yet they still grasp at straws in their personal lives. Lowering one's standards for crappy companionship doesn’t typically lead to a happily ever after type of ending. I am not judgmental. I know it's not always easy to be alone, and I have stayed in relationships just to have the security of someone being physically present.
I admire women who hold out for awhile and select life partners based on personality compatibility rather than on exclusive physical attraction. What will matter when you’re 70? Tattered pictures of your vain and inflated youth or a lasting emotional connection?
I also had one of the best college roommates. I was clueless at the time, but looking back in the rearview mirror; I now know that she was masquerading as a life lesson. I was being groomed on how to stop trying to fit in with everyone else. She taught me that if you get left out of a group or shut out of a relationship, it’s not because you’re deficient, broken, or because you need to change something about yourself.
Unless, of course, you have controllable hygiene problems or you’re a mean person.
Then you should change.
My freshman roommate at Susquehanna University was a real musician, thinker, writer, reader, student, and spiritualist. But more importantly, she was a GOOD person. She frequently put others before herself. She would waylay her studies to counsel or encourage a friend. Handpicking her words, she would craft letters and notes to a cornucopia of friends. Why? To brighten their day and make them feel important.
This was another person I placed high upon a pedestal. She was everything I wanted to be, but wasn’t. Playing her guitar for hours, she would serenade me with her song. Yet, she too experienced self-doubt, as we all do at some point in life. I think her desire to achieve perfection and originality burnt her out. She took a break from school for awhile. This didn’t stop me. I still wanted to be her. I admired her resolve.
Her Mom said she was the "happiest sad girl" she had ever met.
I hope she is just a happy girl now.
Hmm…
My favorite folk-music group, The Weepies, is the background music for my thoughts tonight. Their music also fits with the end of one of the best long weekends in my life.
Thunder rumbles in the distance, a quiet intensity
I am willful, your insistence is tugging at the best of me
You're the moon, I'm the water
You're Mars, calling up Neptune's daughter
Sometimes rain that's needed falls
We float like two lovers in a painting by Chagall
All around is sky and blue town
We live so high above the ground, satellites surround us.
I am humbled in this city
There seems to be an endless sea of people like us
Wakeful dreamers, I pass them on the sunlit streets
In our rooms filled with laughter
We make hope from every small disaster
Everybody says "you can't, you can't, you can't, don't try."
Still everybody says that if they had the chance they'd fly like we do.
Labor Day has come to an end.
Back to school tomorrow.
How does this rambling blog post relate to education?
Kids who believe in themselves, know who they are, and have a strong support system are more likely to have the confidence and inner strength to resist peer pressure. I don't know if that statement is supported by research or DATA. Frankly, I don't care. I simply believe that children brought up with people who genuinely care about them and are involved in their lives will be more inclined to exhibit compassion, tolerance, and kindness. Better chances of becoming a thoughtful leaders.
All things this world needs more of.
Time to get off my soap box for the night.
Good night, Buster.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Epiphany
Where do your best ideas brew?
In the car?
In the shower?
Around a campfire?
Right before you fall asleep?
In the heat of the moment?
Epiphany!
Mine seem to happen when I’m immersed in some mindless task and don’t have access to the slightest scrap of paper to scribble them down on. Probably more dangerous than texting while driving, I shamelessly admit that I have bent over the console in the midst of navigating to search for anything resembling a gum wrapper. Pens always seem to be a rare commodity too. They would be an easy solution to the problem. I could tattoo the hasty, misshapen idea on the back of my hand. Like tater tots in your pocket, something to savor later. A reminder.
Practicality isn’t always my strong suit.
Stashed in the nook of the driver side door are "free" Clinique gift items: a mini lipstick and mascara. If diamonds are a girl’s best friend, then lipstick might just be a girl’s BFF. This is coming from a person who loves lipstick, but can never wear it properly. I always end up looking like a clown. It doesn’t stay put. It smears up towards my nose almost every time. But, that doesn’t stop me. I still wear it pretty religiously. The optimist in me keeps believing that one day it will adhere to the right spots like superglue. Although, if I had to choose between lipstick and mascara, I would sacrifice the lipstick for the mascara. Mascara is the magical miracle makeup. At least, I think so.
Despite the absence of pens and paper in my buggy, there are a few useful items that can be found hidden among the cosmetics:
A Tom-Tom.
Bank deposit envelopes.
A life vest.
Hand lotion.
A flashlight.
Bug spray.
A blanket.
A whistle.
An ice scraper.
A deck of cards.
A spare tire and jack.
Numerous oil change and other car maintenance receipts.
A map of the NEPA corkscrew, titled, “Off the Beaten Path.”
Real necessities.
Practical or not, the ideas brew when they are ready.
They don’t give mannerly consideration to my current situation or my aptitude to capture them for later use.
And, as a result, they are sometimes lost in the midst of a song that I belt out at the top of my lungs while driving.
I think I just realized that songs are often the water that bring life to the dormant seeds in my mind.
Lyrics rekindle memories.
Memories are material.
I bet you have a bunch.
Put them to paper and see how they transform your life.
There must be something to the “seeing” of your thoughts, outside of yourself, that brings everything into focus.
In the car?
In the shower?
Around a campfire?
Right before you fall asleep?
In the heat of the moment?
Epiphany!
Mine seem to happen when I’m immersed in some mindless task and don’t have access to the slightest scrap of paper to scribble them down on. Probably more dangerous than texting while driving, I shamelessly admit that I have bent over the console in the midst of navigating to search for anything resembling a gum wrapper. Pens always seem to be a rare commodity too. They would be an easy solution to the problem. I could tattoo the hasty, misshapen idea on the back of my hand. Like tater tots in your pocket, something to savor later. A reminder.
Practicality isn’t always my strong suit.
Stashed in the nook of the driver side door are "free" Clinique gift items: a mini lipstick and mascara. If diamonds are a girl’s best friend, then lipstick might just be a girl’s BFF. This is coming from a person who loves lipstick, but can never wear it properly. I always end up looking like a clown. It doesn’t stay put. It smears up towards my nose almost every time. But, that doesn’t stop me. I still wear it pretty religiously. The optimist in me keeps believing that one day it will adhere to the right spots like superglue. Although, if I had to choose between lipstick and mascara, I would sacrifice the lipstick for the mascara. Mascara is the magical miracle makeup. At least, I think so.
Despite the absence of pens and paper in my buggy, there are a few useful items that can be found hidden among the cosmetics:
A Tom-Tom.
Bank deposit envelopes.
A life vest.
Hand lotion.
A flashlight.
Bug spray.
A blanket.
A whistle.
An ice scraper.
A deck of cards.
A spare tire and jack.
Numerous oil change and other car maintenance receipts.
A map of the NEPA corkscrew, titled, “Off the Beaten Path.”
Real necessities.
Practical or not, the ideas brew when they are ready.
They don’t give mannerly consideration to my current situation or my aptitude to capture them for later use.
And, as a result, they are sometimes lost in the midst of a song that I belt out at the top of my lungs while driving.
I think I just realized that songs are often the water that bring life to the dormant seeds in my mind.
Lyrics rekindle memories.
Memories are material.
I bet you have a bunch.
Put them to paper and see how they transform your life.
There must be something to the “seeing” of your thoughts, outside of yourself, that brings everything into focus.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
The Problem with Comparisons
“Mrs. Brion?”
“It’s Miss Brion!!!” another student quickly corrected in a hushed, but annoyed voice.
This interjection must have sparked curiosity.
A third little boy innocently raised his hand and asked,
“What’s the difference between Miss, Mrs., and Ms?”
Okay, I thought, I can digress into a brief explanation here.
After all, this is a teachable moment, right?
Then my mind started to wander,
And I wondered…
Why don’t men have these dubious titles?
Our class discussion spurred another question.
This one hit home.
It was much more personal.
“Why aren’t YOU married, Miss Brion?”
Great, I thought, not only is my beloved grandmother
Issuing me subliminal warnings about my biological clock,
But now my adolescent students are too.
Lucky for me, a girl chimed in before I had time to devise a politically correct answer.
I prefer to dodge these delicate issues…especially in the school setting.
For once,
The tables were turned.
A kid was encouraging me with their words,
“Don’t worry, Miss Brion. You will be!”
Will be what?
Married?
Haha!
Thank GOD someone believed in me.
Lord knew I didn’t believe much in myself at this stage in the game.
That didn’t mean there was something wrong with me.
Did it?
My first instinct was to issue a redundant form of worn out advice,
The kind that no one really believes...
It's okay to be yourself.
My favorite saying of the past school year was
Randomly uttered one morning during homeroom.
Impulsively.
But loaded with meaning,
“I tried being normal once, and it was the worst five minutes of my life.”
This girl understood that being different was actually a good thing.
It is a rarity for a 12-year-old to know WHO they are…
So, how I could I expect the kids to be individuals?
I would have been a true hypocrite.
Especially because I just learned how to be an individual.
This past summer.
Right before my 30th birthday.
Just in the nick of time.
Previously, my life was a bit of a mess and needed some reorganization.
Thank goodness my students taught me,
Same = BORING!
I used to be very cookie-cutter.
Ask any of my high school friends.
I didn’t have the courage to stray too far from the safety of rules,
Or expectations of authority figures.
Well…once in a great while I did…
But, I usually always ended up feeling guilty about it.
I didn’t want to let anyone down.
The other sad truth about me is that
I used to be an attention junkie.
Not with everyday people…
I didn’t need to be the center of everyone’s attention
Just the one person I devoted my life to.
And I always did this…
Clung to a long-term boyfriend.
I so fully preoccupied myself,
Searching for happiness,
In someone else,
That I forgot how to be happy with just myself.
I mistakenly thought if I could make someone else content,
They would reciprocate and
Fill me with JOY for eternity!
And, that would be enough for me.
Another part of the problem was that I used to be an
“All or nothing” type of gal.
I used to see the world in black and white.
I didn’t have balance in my life.
When I first started teaching,
I had a minor meltdown.
Why?
Because,
I didn’t think I was doing a good enough job...
For awhile, the anxiety fueled a downward spiral.
I lost my appetite.
Became an insomniac.
My heart rate was in a constant race.
I gave up any real attempts at a social life.
I didn’t do ANYTHING on the weekends…except “school work.”
I mistakenly thought I could achieve a shadow of perfection,
If I simply worked hard enough,
And DEVOTED my entire first year of teaching to working myself to
Death.
I also internalized the baggage my students helplessly brought to school with them each day.
When they acted out, I blamed myself…
Believing that I was unable to “control” them.
I now accept that truth in a different light.
No one can CONTROL anyone else.
Classroom management is kind of a farce.
Reality is that you can INSPIRE the behaviors you want to see
Through modeling
And establishing reasonable boundaries
Backed up with compassionate consequences
That are delivered consistently.
That doesn’t mean,
By any stretch of the imagination,
That I have mastered this art.
I am not a super teacher, nor will I ever claim to be.
I struggle EVERY day.
But, I LOVE my OCCUPATION and my LIFE now.
I tend to ramble.
Back to my misguided beliefs.
My pursuit of true happiness could
Only be achieved if I was flawless…
This led to my next vice.
I started measuring my self-worth against the accomplishments of my friends.
I started to pathetically believe that something was erroneous with me,
Or else I, too, would be married with an adorable toddler at my side.
For the first time in my life, I wasn’t following the societal protocol.
The natural progression of life.
Idealism was my arch enemy.
In my classroom, I hung a poster with this pearl of wisdom:
“Cooperate with others, but compete ONLY against yourself.”
Apparently, I fastened it to the wall with the solemnity of duct tape,
But NEVER took the time to read and comprehend its meaning for myself.
The longer my own relationship rolled on through the motions,
The more I clung to the belief...
That an engagement must be just around the corner.
All I had to do was hold on a little longer and squeeze a little tighter.
I mean, I was engaged to this person once already,
And, I wrecked the relationship.
But, we were past all of that now.
If I just waited patiently, I would be rewarded, right?
How twisted is that line of thought?
Rewarded.
I was holding on so firmly that I was strangling the life out of both of us.
And, I am not revealing these things
In order to place blame.
Dar Williams may have felt the way I do now.
I relate to these lyrics from her song, “Iowa.”
Way back where I come from, we never mean to bother,
We don’t like to make our passions other people's concern,
And we walk in the world of safe people, and at night we walk into our houses and burn.
How I long to fall just a little bit, to dance out of the lines and stray from the light,
But I fear that to fall in love with you is to fall from a great and gruesome height.
So I asked a friend about it, on a bad day, her husband had just left her,
She sat down on the chair he left behind, she said,
"What is love, where did it get me? Whoever thought of love is no friend of mine."
Once I had everything, I gave it up for the shoulder of your driveway and the words I’ve never felt.
And so for you, I came this far across the tracks, ten miles above the limit, and with no seatbelt, and I’d do it again,
For tonight I went running through the screen doors of discretion,
For I woke up from a nightmare that I could not stand to see,
You were a-wandering out on the hills of Iowa and you were not thinking of me.
I spent almost ten years,
Off and on with a generous person,
With whom I shared some unforgettable times.
Many laughs.
A few tears.
But mostly, the rollercoaster was a FUN ride!!
I think this person knew LONG before I did,
That love wasn’t the problem.
This was a person that once:
Wrote me five separate love notes,
Tucked them inside charismatic envelopes,
Each festooned with a golden Hallmark seal,
And hid them all over my room.
How romantic!
This someone would frequently drop everything,
Jump in their car,
And drive halfway across the state,
Just to spend one day with me.
I thought I had fallen down a well,
And all my wishes were coming true.
The day after my college graduation,
I moved into this person’s apartment.
Naïvely,
We thought we were ready to tackle life together.
Stephen Covey knew better.
Love is verb.
An action.
Not a feeling.
My best friend from high school,
Also freshly graduated from Penn State,
Moved in with us for a short time.
Her words echo in my mind,
“He stands and waits at the door for you to come home from work.
Like a puppy dog.”
True love!
I had achieved my goal.
I loved someone enough that I stole their life away,
And brainwashed them into making me the object of their affection.
So we rode on together, and
Life was pretty good.
For awhile.
Living in the suburbs of Philadelphia gave a new flourish to our lives.
Both kids from country backgrounds,
We reveled in
Concerts, parties, restaurants, shopping, sporting events, day tripping, and outdoor excursions…
Then…something happened.
We both grew discontent with our employment.
Dead end jobs.
Nothing to stimulate our brains.
So one day we parted ways,
With the intention of making things work from a distance.
One of us set off to achieve a dream in law enforcement.
The other set off to pursue a dream of becoming an educator.
For some people, time and space can only make the heart grow fonder for
A limited amount of time.
I don’t recommend trying to make long distance relationships last indefinitely.
Still, it CAN work like crazy for awhile.
We were engaged in the spring.
Infused with bliss, we refused to set plans on something as permanent as a wedding/marriage.
In hindsight, that’s a dangerous move too.
And like the sighting of Hercules, a seasonal constellation in summer,
The engagement was over in the fall.
I was to blame for the failure.
I sunk into a mild depression that lasted almost a year.
In the loneliness of the breakup, I succumbed to the need for redemption.
And, in the next bout of 365 days, my love took me back.
Everything was going to be just like it used to be!
Except that it wasn’t.
It was never the same ever again.
That’s what happens when you are careless with someone else’s heart,
And break their trust.
What a valuable lesson.
I learned the hard way.
Back to love…
It was never really the problem.
The problem turned out to be compatibility.
There is some truth to the cliché “Love is blind.”
When I first stepped foot in the 10 year journey,
I fell in love with handsome, snuggly, and sweet.
I thought those things were enough to fuel longevity.
And if they weren’t,
I believed I would be able to compensate for any other incongruities,
With problem solving.
I never gave an ounce of thought to whether or not we were well-suited for each other.
Love can cloud your vision.
That doesn’t mean I would change a thing about my life.
If I hadn’t traveled through the last decade with this person,
I may not have gone back to acquire my teaching certification.
I highly doubt I would have ever moved to Sullivan County.
And, I certainly wouldn’t have made the plethora of remarkable friends,
That I am graced with now!
Deep conversations with my father are few and far between,
But I will never forget him saying to me,
“You have to accept the other person for who they are.
You have to look carefully at what you are able to live with and what you aren’t.
And, you have to make a decision at that point.”
My mom was also incredibly supportive.
She listened for an infinity of hours without passing judgment.
She knew I had to work this one out on my own.
Fence sitting can only last for so long.
Eventually I had to take the plunge from the safety of my roost.
It wasn’t easy.
History is a hard thing to let go of.
Nostalgia is an easy thing to clutch onto.
But, I soon learned that sometimes it’s better to just make a decision,
Even if it’s not necessarily the right one,
And stick with it for awhile.
Get-to-know the change you’re in for.
Roll around in it and get cozy.
We all have doppelgangers.
The person I was with actually had MANY more things that I liked about them than disliked.
I guess for the last year I just turned into a Debbie Downer.
And I stood and stared at all the things I dreaded,
Blocking out all the good with my tinted Ray Bans.
Until I couldn’t stand the loathing anymore.
Despondently, I lost respect and gave up.
Because of my dreary attitude, I wasn’t worthy of respect either.
Now that I have some distance from my pet peeves,
I don’t mind them as much and I can appreciate
How they made this person a unique and special individual.
I am so happy that we finally saw each other for who we really were,
And accepted our differences in a grown-up way.
When we came upon “two roads that diverged in a yellow wood,”
We thoughtfully chose to each set out on our own path.
The best part is that we still shout out across the forest,
From time to time,
To make sure the other is okay.
In past relationships, I held onto my black and white mentality,
Believing that you couldn’t remain friends with someone
After the fact.
Hogwash!
I am at peace with my past now.
I can remain friends.
I can celebrate the successes,
And offer support for failures,
Even though our lives aren’t so completely intertwined anymore.
This person recently said to me,
“If you ever get married, I will come to your wedding…if you want me to.”
A testament to their character.
For the record,
There are several things about me that I am sure MANY people couldn’t
Tolerate living with day in and day out:
I write extensive lists.
I turn into a nocturnal creature in the summertime.
This is annoying because most people have to work the next day…
Yes, even in the summer.
I can spend hours in bed reading a book,
Or sitting in front of my computer writing, reading, listening and watching.
I can drink a whole pot of coffee.
I don’t have TV...I mean I own a TV, but I don’t subscribe to cable or satellite.
I recently gave up washing my hair every single day.
It’s not healthy.
I am addicted to Pandora radio.
I keep an Amazon wish list.
I sing in the car and the shower.
I enjoy cleaning and decorating.
I use sticky notes…everywhere.
I collect T-shirts from 5k's.
I like to eat onions.
I save greeting cards.
I wear a fuchsia running watch.
It symbolizes the heart I wear on my sleeve.
Just kidding.
Well, sort of.
I can talk for over an hour on the phone with my MOM.
I have a skin pigmentation problem on my back and
Two yellow sunspots in my eyes,
From years of lifeguarding and beach loafing.
I am a nerd.
I smile too much.
I believe in Chinese fortune cookies…because I once received the same fortune TWICE:
“You are of double character: An active socialite and a serious thinker.”
If only I could aspire to those cool types of personality traits…
Now, I just prefer to be an empathetic misfit.
I no longer take pleasure in making a perfect fit with the jigsaw puzzle of life.
That’s a long enough list for now.
This is a long enough post…
Similar to Daily Self-Affirmations with Stuart Smalley, on Saturday Night Live.
OH...and, getting married is no longer at the tippy top of my priority list.
I don’t need a husband or kids to validate WHO I am.
If they happen, I will probably be exultant though.
Another new friend also generously shared their wisdom with me by saying, “Self reliance is good. It’s really important. Especially as a woman. It’s important for generations of women to keep inspiring each other about how great they can be independently.”
Those words sunk deeply into my fabric.
The introspective arrangement of those letters into words were reminiscent of another sensible friend who lives in Shunk, PA and coined it, “The New Manayunk.”
She is modest, yet insightfully progressive with her words,
“Happiness is a choice!”
“It’s Miss Brion!!!” another student quickly corrected in a hushed, but annoyed voice.
This interjection must have sparked curiosity.
A third little boy innocently raised his hand and asked,
“What’s the difference between Miss, Mrs., and Ms?”
Okay, I thought, I can digress into a brief explanation here.
After all, this is a teachable moment, right?
Then my mind started to wander,
And I wondered…
Why don’t men have these dubious titles?
Our class discussion spurred another question.
This one hit home.
It was much more personal.
“Why aren’t YOU married, Miss Brion?”
Great, I thought, not only is my beloved grandmother
Issuing me subliminal warnings about my biological clock,
But now my adolescent students are too.
Lucky for me, a girl chimed in before I had time to devise a politically correct answer.
I prefer to dodge these delicate issues…especially in the school setting.
For once,
The tables were turned.
A kid was encouraging me with their words,
“Don’t worry, Miss Brion. You will be!”
Will be what?
Married?
Haha!
Thank GOD someone believed in me.
Lord knew I didn’t believe much in myself at this stage in the game.
That didn’t mean there was something wrong with me.
Did it?
My first instinct was to issue a redundant form of worn out advice,
The kind that no one really believes...
It's okay to be yourself.
My favorite saying of the past school year was
Randomly uttered one morning during homeroom.
Impulsively.
But loaded with meaning,
“I tried being normal once, and it was the worst five minutes of my life.”
This girl understood that being different was actually a good thing.
It is a rarity for a 12-year-old to know WHO they are…
So, how I could I expect the kids to be individuals?
I would have been a true hypocrite.
Especially because I just learned how to be an individual.
This past summer.
Right before my 30th birthday.
Just in the nick of time.
Previously, my life was a bit of a mess and needed some reorganization.
Thank goodness my students taught me,
Same = BORING!
I used to be very cookie-cutter.
Ask any of my high school friends.
I didn’t have the courage to stray too far from the safety of rules,
Or expectations of authority figures.
Well…once in a great while I did…
But, I usually always ended up feeling guilty about it.
I didn’t want to let anyone down.
The other sad truth about me is that
I used to be an attention junkie.
Not with everyday people…
I didn’t need to be the center of everyone’s attention
Just the one person I devoted my life to.
And I always did this…
Clung to a long-term boyfriend.
I so fully preoccupied myself,
Searching for happiness,
In someone else,
That I forgot how to be happy with just myself.
I mistakenly thought if I could make someone else content,
They would reciprocate and
Fill me with JOY for eternity!
And, that would be enough for me.
Another part of the problem was that I used to be an
“All or nothing” type of gal.
I used to see the world in black and white.
I didn’t have balance in my life.
When I first started teaching,
I had a minor meltdown.
Why?
Because,
I didn’t think I was doing a good enough job...
For awhile, the anxiety fueled a downward spiral.
I lost my appetite.
Became an insomniac.
My heart rate was in a constant race.
I gave up any real attempts at a social life.
I didn’t do ANYTHING on the weekends…except “school work.”
I mistakenly thought I could achieve a shadow of perfection,
If I simply worked hard enough,
And DEVOTED my entire first year of teaching to working myself to
Death.
I also internalized the baggage my students helplessly brought to school with them each day.
When they acted out, I blamed myself…
Believing that I was unable to “control” them.
I now accept that truth in a different light.
No one can CONTROL anyone else.
Classroom management is kind of a farce.
Reality is that you can INSPIRE the behaviors you want to see
Through modeling
And establishing reasonable boundaries
Backed up with compassionate consequences
That are delivered consistently.
That doesn’t mean,
By any stretch of the imagination,
That I have mastered this art.
I am not a super teacher, nor will I ever claim to be.
I struggle EVERY day.
But, I LOVE my OCCUPATION and my LIFE now.
I tend to ramble.
Back to my misguided beliefs.
My pursuit of true happiness could
Only be achieved if I was flawless…
This led to my next vice.
I started measuring my self-worth against the accomplishments of my friends.
I started to pathetically believe that something was erroneous with me,
Or else I, too, would be married with an adorable toddler at my side.
For the first time in my life, I wasn’t following the societal protocol.
The natural progression of life.
Idealism was my arch enemy.
In my classroom, I hung a poster with this pearl of wisdom:
“Cooperate with others, but compete ONLY against yourself.”
Apparently, I fastened it to the wall with the solemnity of duct tape,
But NEVER took the time to read and comprehend its meaning for myself.
The longer my own relationship rolled on through the motions,
The more I clung to the belief...
That an engagement must be just around the corner.
All I had to do was hold on a little longer and squeeze a little tighter.
I mean, I was engaged to this person once already,
And, I wrecked the relationship.
But, we were past all of that now.
If I just waited patiently, I would be rewarded, right?
How twisted is that line of thought?
Rewarded.
I was holding on so firmly that I was strangling the life out of both of us.
And, I am not revealing these things
In order to place blame.
Dar Williams may have felt the way I do now.
I relate to these lyrics from her song, “Iowa.”
Way back where I come from, we never mean to bother,
We don’t like to make our passions other people's concern,
And we walk in the world of safe people, and at night we walk into our houses and burn.
How I long to fall just a little bit, to dance out of the lines and stray from the light,
But I fear that to fall in love with you is to fall from a great and gruesome height.
So I asked a friend about it, on a bad day, her husband had just left her,
She sat down on the chair he left behind, she said,
"What is love, where did it get me? Whoever thought of love is no friend of mine."
Once I had everything, I gave it up for the shoulder of your driveway and the words I’ve never felt.
And so for you, I came this far across the tracks, ten miles above the limit, and with no seatbelt, and I’d do it again,
For tonight I went running through the screen doors of discretion,
For I woke up from a nightmare that I could not stand to see,
You were a-wandering out on the hills of Iowa and you were not thinking of me.
I spent almost ten years,
Off and on with a generous person,
With whom I shared some unforgettable times.
Many laughs.
A few tears.
But mostly, the rollercoaster was a FUN ride!!
I think this person knew LONG before I did,
That love wasn’t the problem.
This was a person that once:
Wrote me five separate love notes,
Tucked them inside charismatic envelopes,
Each festooned with a golden Hallmark seal,
And hid them all over my room.
How romantic!
This someone would frequently drop everything,
Jump in their car,
And drive halfway across the state,
Just to spend one day with me.
I thought I had fallen down a well,
And all my wishes were coming true.
The day after my college graduation,
I moved into this person’s apartment.
Naïvely,
We thought we were ready to tackle life together.
Stephen Covey knew better.
Love is verb.
An action.
Not a feeling.
My best friend from high school,
Also freshly graduated from Penn State,
Moved in with us for a short time.
Her words echo in my mind,
“He stands and waits at the door for you to come home from work.
Like a puppy dog.”
True love!
I had achieved my goal.
I loved someone enough that I stole their life away,
And brainwashed them into making me the object of their affection.
So we rode on together, and
Life was pretty good.
For awhile.
Living in the suburbs of Philadelphia gave a new flourish to our lives.
Both kids from country backgrounds,
We reveled in
Concerts, parties, restaurants, shopping, sporting events, day tripping, and outdoor excursions…
Then…something happened.
We both grew discontent with our employment.
Dead end jobs.
Nothing to stimulate our brains.
So one day we parted ways,
With the intention of making things work from a distance.
One of us set off to achieve a dream in law enforcement.
The other set off to pursue a dream of becoming an educator.
For some people, time and space can only make the heart grow fonder for
A limited amount of time.
I don’t recommend trying to make long distance relationships last indefinitely.
Still, it CAN work like crazy for awhile.
We were engaged in the spring.
Infused with bliss, we refused to set plans on something as permanent as a wedding/marriage.
In hindsight, that’s a dangerous move too.
And like the sighting of Hercules, a seasonal constellation in summer,
The engagement was over in the fall.
I was to blame for the failure.
I sunk into a mild depression that lasted almost a year.
In the loneliness of the breakup, I succumbed to the need for redemption.
And, in the next bout of 365 days, my love took me back.
Everything was going to be just like it used to be!
Except that it wasn’t.
It was never the same ever again.
That’s what happens when you are careless with someone else’s heart,
And break their trust.
What a valuable lesson.
I learned the hard way.
Back to love…
It was never really the problem.
The problem turned out to be compatibility.
There is some truth to the cliché “Love is blind.”
When I first stepped foot in the 10 year journey,
I fell in love with handsome, snuggly, and sweet.
I thought those things were enough to fuel longevity.
And if they weren’t,
I believed I would be able to compensate for any other incongruities,
With problem solving.
I never gave an ounce of thought to whether or not we were well-suited for each other.
Love can cloud your vision.
That doesn’t mean I would change a thing about my life.
If I hadn’t traveled through the last decade with this person,
I may not have gone back to acquire my teaching certification.
I highly doubt I would have ever moved to Sullivan County.
And, I certainly wouldn’t have made the plethora of remarkable friends,
That I am graced with now!
Deep conversations with my father are few and far between,
But I will never forget him saying to me,
“You have to accept the other person for who they are.
You have to look carefully at what you are able to live with and what you aren’t.
And, you have to make a decision at that point.”
My mom was also incredibly supportive.
She listened for an infinity of hours without passing judgment.
She knew I had to work this one out on my own.
Fence sitting can only last for so long.
Eventually I had to take the plunge from the safety of my roost.
It wasn’t easy.
History is a hard thing to let go of.
Nostalgia is an easy thing to clutch onto.
But, I soon learned that sometimes it’s better to just make a decision,
Even if it’s not necessarily the right one,
And stick with it for awhile.
Get-to-know the change you’re in for.
Roll around in it and get cozy.
We all have doppelgangers.
The person I was with actually had MANY more things that I liked about them than disliked.
I guess for the last year I just turned into a Debbie Downer.
And I stood and stared at all the things I dreaded,
Blocking out all the good with my tinted Ray Bans.
Until I couldn’t stand the loathing anymore.
Despondently, I lost respect and gave up.
Because of my dreary attitude, I wasn’t worthy of respect either.
Now that I have some distance from my pet peeves,
I don’t mind them as much and I can appreciate
How they made this person a unique and special individual.
I am so happy that we finally saw each other for who we really were,
And accepted our differences in a grown-up way.
When we came upon “two roads that diverged in a yellow wood,”
We thoughtfully chose to each set out on our own path.
The best part is that we still shout out across the forest,
From time to time,
To make sure the other is okay.
In past relationships, I held onto my black and white mentality,
Believing that you couldn’t remain friends with someone
After the fact.
Hogwash!
I am at peace with my past now.
I can remain friends.
I can celebrate the successes,
And offer support for failures,
Even though our lives aren’t so completely intertwined anymore.
This person recently said to me,
“If you ever get married, I will come to your wedding…if you want me to.”
A testament to their character.
For the record,
There are several things about me that I am sure MANY people couldn’t
Tolerate living with day in and day out:
I write extensive lists.
I turn into a nocturnal creature in the summertime.
This is annoying because most people have to work the next day…
Yes, even in the summer.
I can spend hours in bed reading a book,
Or sitting in front of my computer writing, reading, listening and watching.
I can drink a whole pot of coffee.
I don’t have TV...I mean I own a TV, but I don’t subscribe to cable or satellite.
I recently gave up washing my hair every single day.
It’s not healthy.
I am addicted to Pandora radio.
I keep an Amazon wish list.
I sing in the car and the shower.
I enjoy cleaning and decorating.
I use sticky notes…everywhere.
I collect T-shirts from 5k's.
I like to eat onions.
I save greeting cards.
I wear a fuchsia running watch.
It symbolizes the heart I wear on my sleeve.
Just kidding.
Well, sort of.
I can talk for over an hour on the phone with my MOM.
I have a skin pigmentation problem on my back and
Two yellow sunspots in my eyes,
From years of lifeguarding and beach loafing.
I am a nerd.
I smile too much.
I believe in Chinese fortune cookies…because I once received the same fortune TWICE:
“You are of double character: An active socialite and a serious thinker.”
If only I could aspire to those cool types of personality traits…
Now, I just prefer to be an empathetic misfit.
I no longer take pleasure in making a perfect fit with the jigsaw puzzle of life.
That’s a long enough list for now.
This is a long enough post…
Similar to Daily Self-Affirmations with Stuart Smalley, on Saturday Night Live.
OH...and, getting married is no longer at the tippy top of my priority list.
I don’t need a husband or kids to validate WHO I am.
If they happen, I will probably be exultant though.
Another new friend also generously shared their wisdom with me by saying, “Self reliance is good. It’s really important. Especially as a woman. It’s important for generations of women to keep inspiring each other about how great they can be independently.”
Those words sunk deeply into my fabric.
The introspective arrangement of those letters into words were reminiscent of another sensible friend who lives in Shunk, PA and coined it, “The New Manayunk.”
She is modest, yet insightfully progressive with her words,
“Happiness is a choice!”
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Diamond in the Rough
Why do we sometimes allow ourselves to go on a wild goose chase...
For something that is right smack dab in front of us?
A lyric to one of my new favorite country songs,
“Don’t try to outsmart your own common sense,”
Epitomizes the story that is about to unfold.
The irony in this yarn is that I am currently sitting on my front porch,
Drenched in sweat,
Drinking a cold beverage,
Taking a break from the battle I wage with my hand-me-down lawnmower,
Which is the subject of tonight's tale.
Even though this mower and I have been
Embarrassingly seen by many “Laportians,”
Making a tumultuous struggle on the front slope of my lawn,
Similar to the way Steve Carell and Tina Fey awkwardly dance in Date Night,
I still utter a silent word of thanks to my mother and her friend,
For bestowing me with this generous gift.
Without this Toro grass cutter,
I would be unable to chop down the jungle
That overtakes my yard every two weeks
Or less…depending on the amount of rainfall.
And, I certainly wouldn’t have made a trip to Dushore, PA
To have my first experience at Bill’s Hardware,
A diamond in the rough.
Let’s back up a bit.
My first wrangle with this prarie buzzer,
Way back in June,
Required several laps across the same stretch of grass
Just to see any noticeable results.
Like trying to saw your leg off with a butter knife,
The blade was simply THAT dull.
This is where the scavenger hunt began.
My distrust of massive corporate chains
Should have been reason enough to embark locally on my quest.
However, still clutching to the excuse that I was a relative newbie to the area,
I didn’t give it much consideration.
Time wasn't a luxury this summer.
Although, (foreshadow) I ended up wasting a lot of it
By underestimating the practicality, foresight, and utility of
SULCO's small business owners.
So, I sacrificed a perfectly good day for making headway on the house,
To set out in search of
A replacement lawnmower blade.
No rock was left unturned:
Wal-Mart,
Tractor Supply,
Lowes,
Home Depot,
And, even a one-man Toro shop in Millville,
Were subjected to my singling out of their associates,
With the broken-record question, “Excuse me, please. Do you have a 17 ½ inch lawnmower blade?”
Some of the people I asked looked at me as though I was asking to buy a machete!
Jeez!
I was sure I couldn’t be the only one looking to preserve an antique.
There had to be some honor in my mission.
Preventing waste should be considered American, right?
Apparently, the longevity of my red grass eater, was the problem.
Age discrimination!
Since this beast was purchased in the mid 70’s,
I needed a Toro blade of an irregular size...
At least by today's standards.
I guess it’s no wonder that pinning one down became an arduous task.
So it was a bit of a surprise,
At least in my mind, when
Bill’s Hardware Store came to my unexpected rescue!
This is not tomfoolery.
It’s the truth.
This small-town shop, approximately ten miles from my house,
Was the ONLY place I could finally find the right size.
Like Cinderella…the slipper fit!
When I told the kind lady at the sales counter that I had searched
Half of Northeastern PA for this item,
She casually responded that this product was
"Just the sort of thing Bill keeps in stock."
Good to know.
I decided to tuck that golden ticket away for future use.
And, the kicker, was in her next comment,
“You should have looked here first.”
Ha!
Yes....yes, I should have.
Eureka!
But, the new propeller for my rusty plant whacker ended up being only part of this pinnacle event.
For, my first impression upon entering the establishment was, “What a charming store!”
I had lived in Sullivan County for at least two years,
And, shamefully I had never set foot in this place.
I guess I never really had a reason to before this day.
Home ownership has resulted in several "firsts" for me this summer.
While I didn't know the owners,
I could easily sense their dignity.
The store was spotless and immaculately organized.
Kind of an oxymoron in my mind.
Tools and cleanliness usually don’t go hand in hand.
An assortment of preserved wildlife adorned the walls.
And, as you’ve already figured out from the first find of my treasure hunt,
The inventory left virtually nothing to be desired.
Neither did the clientele.
While I wandered around the shop,
Two young men from New Jersey were busy placing a hefty order for wild bait.
I caught snippets of their requisition.
All forms of minnows with appetizing names, suckers and chubs.
Arthropods like crayfish and crabs.
Mollusks such as mussels and clams.
And, of course, nymphs, larvae and pupae of all insects spending any part of their life cycle in the water.
A crash-course review in living organism classification.
Meanwhile, an elderly woman stood in line,
While the Chinese pug at the end of her leash
Wheezed and drooled on the floor.
I wondered how the owners, of this pristine place, would feel about that.
All of the slobbering on their freshly vacuumed carpet.
If the shopkeepers were disturbed by this,
They must have restrained their true feelings to their inside voices,
For I couldn’t detect any animosity towards this patron.
In addition to the entertainment provided by the customers,
My visit was about to get even better...
I discovered I could purchase a two-year registration sticker for my kayak.
This task had been put off for more than a week.
And, I found a much needed,
Petite bag of potting soil.
Just the right size!
A flowering plant was rapidly becoming root-bound on my front porch,
And was in dire need of a transplant.
For the record,
A bag of soil, this size,
At this late interval in the summer, was also
Out-of-stock
At any of those one-stop-shop chains.
Guess convenience stores are only convenient when it's convenient for the bottom line.
Did that even make sense?
I'm sorry.
Anyhoo...
The moral of the story is that
It wasn’t hard to be won over by this hometown entrepreneur.
I just killed three birds with one stone.
When it was finally my turn at the register,
I placed my items on the counter,
And lifted my gaze.
My eyes fell upon a hand-written sign,
Hanging like a mistletoe,
A once-a-year treat,
From the archway,
Leading back into the “Employee’s Only” storeroom.
The sign cleverly read, “Bill will still restore your sole.”
This was the icing on the cake.
A pair of jeans that fit just right.
The ultimate feather in the cap!
I loved EVERYTHING about this savvy sign.
To me, it meant the proprietors could work hard,
Take pride in their business,
And still HAVE A SENSE OF HUMOR!
Hooray!
In case you couldn’t inference from my sheer excitement,
I had fallen head over heels for this pun!
It not only showcased a lost art,
Shoe repair,
It satisfied my daily need for spirituality.
The meaning was two-toned.
Not only could Bill fix my sole,
But, as the message implied, he also could save my soul.
FINALLY!
I am a sucker for all styles of wordplay.
Palindromes, idioms, spoonerisms, onomatopoeia,
Alliteration, similes, metaphors, personification...
And all the other foibles inherent in the trickery of our language.
Thank goodness the words “sole” and “soul” are homophones and not homographs,
Like “record” and “record” or “read” and “read.”
Real confusion could have resulted otherwise.
Imagine people lining up at the door of a hardware store for a Sunday confession.
A fun picture in my mind.
All I know is that before I ever set out on a futile search again,
Spending more money on gas to fuel my car than it would have probably taken
To just break down and buy a new lawnmower,
I will be certain to make Bill’s Hardware in Dushore my first stop!
For something that is right smack dab in front of us?
A lyric to one of my new favorite country songs,
“Don’t try to outsmart your own common sense,”
Epitomizes the story that is about to unfold.
The irony in this yarn is that I am currently sitting on my front porch,
Drenched in sweat,
Drinking a cold beverage,
Taking a break from the battle I wage with my hand-me-down lawnmower,
Which is the subject of tonight's tale.
Even though this mower and I have been
Embarrassingly seen by many “Laportians,”
Making a tumultuous struggle on the front slope of my lawn,
Similar to the way Steve Carell and Tina Fey awkwardly dance in Date Night,
I still utter a silent word of thanks to my mother and her friend,
For bestowing me with this generous gift.
Without this Toro grass cutter,
I would be unable to chop down the jungle
That overtakes my yard every two weeks
Or less…depending on the amount of rainfall.
And, I certainly wouldn’t have made a trip to Dushore, PA
To have my first experience at Bill’s Hardware,
A diamond in the rough.
Let’s back up a bit.
My first wrangle with this prarie buzzer,
Way back in June,
Required several laps across the same stretch of grass
Just to see any noticeable results.
Like trying to saw your leg off with a butter knife,
The blade was simply THAT dull.
This is where the scavenger hunt began.
My distrust of massive corporate chains
Should have been reason enough to embark locally on my quest.
However, still clutching to the excuse that I was a relative newbie to the area,
I didn’t give it much consideration.
Time wasn't a luxury this summer.
Although, (foreshadow) I ended up wasting a lot of it
By underestimating the practicality, foresight, and utility of
SULCO's small business owners.
So, I sacrificed a perfectly good day for making headway on the house,
To set out in search of
A replacement lawnmower blade.
No rock was left unturned:
Wal-Mart,
Tractor Supply,
Lowes,
Home Depot,
And, even a one-man Toro shop in Millville,
Were subjected to my singling out of their associates,
With the broken-record question, “Excuse me, please. Do you have a 17 ½ inch lawnmower blade?”
Some of the people I asked looked at me as though I was asking to buy a machete!
Jeez!
I was sure I couldn’t be the only one looking to preserve an antique.
There had to be some honor in my mission.
Preventing waste should be considered American, right?
Apparently, the longevity of my red grass eater, was the problem.
Age discrimination!
Since this beast was purchased in the mid 70’s,
I needed a Toro blade of an irregular size...
At least by today's standards.
I guess it’s no wonder that pinning one down became an arduous task.
So it was a bit of a surprise,
At least in my mind, when
Bill’s Hardware Store came to my unexpected rescue!
This is not tomfoolery.
It’s the truth.
This small-town shop, approximately ten miles from my house,
Was the ONLY place I could finally find the right size.
Like Cinderella…the slipper fit!
When I told the kind lady at the sales counter that I had searched
Half of Northeastern PA for this item,
She casually responded that this product was
"Just the sort of thing Bill keeps in stock."
Good to know.
I decided to tuck that golden ticket away for future use.
And, the kicker, was in her next comment,
“You should have looked here first.”
Ha!
Yes....yes, I should have.
Eureka!
But, the new propeller for my rusty plant whacker ended up being only part of this pinnacle event.
For, my first impression upon entering the establishment was, “What a charming store!”
I had lived in Sullivan County for at least two years,
And, shamefully I had never set foot in this place.
I guess I never really had a reason to before this day.
Home ownership has resulted in several "firsts" for me this summer.
While I didn't know the owners,
I could easily sense their dignity.
The store was spotless and immaculately organized.
Kind of an oxymoron in my mind.
Tools and cleanliness usually don’t go hand in hand.
An assortment of preserved wildlife adorned the walls.
And, as you’ve already figured out from the first find of my treasure hunt,
The inventory left virtually nothing to be desired.
Neither did the clientele.
While I wandered around the shop,
Two young men from New Jersey were busy placing a hefty order for wild bait.
I caught snippets of their requisition.
All forms of minnows with appetizing names, suckers and chubs.
Arthropods like crayfish and crabs.
Mollusks such as mussels and clams.
And, of course, nymphs, larvae and pupae of all insects spending any part of their life cycle in the water.
A crash-course review in living organism classification.
Meanwhile, an elderly woman stood in line,
While the Chinese pug at the end of her leash
Wheezed and drooled on the floor.
I wondered how the owners, of this pristine place, would feel about that.
All of the slobbering on their freshly vacuumed carpet.
If the shopkeepers were disturbed by this,
They must have restrained their true feelings to their inside voices,
For I couldn’t detect any animosity towards this patron.
In addition to the entertainment provided by the customers,
My visit was about to get even better...
I discovered I could purchase a two-year registration sticker for my kayak.
This task had been put off for more than a week.
And, I found a much needed,
Petite bag of potting soil.
Just the right size!
A flowering plant was rapidly becoming root-bound on my front porch,
And was in dire need of a transplant.
For the record,
A bag of soil, this size,
At this late interval in the summer, was also
Out-of-stock
At any of those one-stop-shop chains.
Guess convenience stores are only convenient when it's convenient for the bottom line.
Did that even make sense?
I'm sorry.
Anyhoo...
The moral of the story is that
It wasn’t hard to be won over by this hometown entrepreneur.
I just killed three birds with one stone.
When it was finally my turn at the register,
I placed my items on the counter,
And lifted my gaze.
My eyes fell upon a hand-written sign,
Hanging like a mistletoe,
A once-a-year treat,
From the archway,
Leading back into the “Employee’s Only” storeroom.
The sign cleverly read, “Bill will still restore your sole.”
This was the icing on the cake.
A pair of jeans that fit just right.
The ultimate feather in the cap!
I loved EVERYTHING about this savvy sign.
To me, it meant the proprietors could work hard,
Take pride in their business,
And still HAVE A SENSE OF HUMOR!
Hooray!
In case you couldn’t inference from my sheer excitement,
I had fallen head over heels for this pun!
It not only showcased a lost art,
Shoe repair,
It satisfied my daily need for spirituality.
The meaning was two-toned.
Not only could Bill fix my sole,
But, as the message implied, he also could save my soul.
FINALLY!
I am a sucker for all styles of wordplay.
Palindromes, idioms, spoonerisms, onomatopoeia,
Alliteration, similes, metaphors, personification...
And all the other foibles inherent in the trickery of our language.
Thank goodness the words “sole” and “soul” are homophones and not homographs,
Like “record” and “record” or “read” and “read.”
Real confusion could have resulted otherwise.
Imagine people lining up at the door of a hardware store for a Sunday confession.
A fun picture in my mind.
All I know is that before I ever set out on a futile search again,
Spending more money on gas to fuel my car than it would have probably taken
To just break down and buy a new lawnmower,
I will be certain to make Bill’s Hardware in Dushore my first stop!
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Namaste.
Why do I feel like this writing game is turning into a slight sickness?
A minor addiction.
Are there such things as slight sicknesses or minor addictions?
Hazy, hollow disclaimers.
Attempts to downplay.
Smoke screens.
I thought today that maybe it was time to put my words away.
Too revealing??
My old self...
Would have gotten cold feet and withdrawn
Into the safety of the familiar hermit shell.
But today, I slammed the door in the face of this mind bully.
I am stronger than you now.
Every time I plant my foot down in a jog around the lake,
Spend the night alone, in this cottage folded into edge of the woods,
Complete another home improvement project,
I stomp, smash, and squelch those old fears,
I deal with uncertainty.
Get a little more comfortable in my own skin.
Anymore, I don’t worry so much about making mistakes.
That doesn’t mean I am becoming complacent or apathetic.
Quite the opposite, I think, or at least hope.
Last night, I had a wandering talk with an old friend.
This person and I politely agreed to disagree.
We respected our differences,
About our deep-seated beliefs,
On whether or not people can ever really change.
My friend said that people can change their behaviors,
But they can never really change their essence.
Their core.
I thought I could relate to where my friend was coming from in their belief.
I mean an alcoholic is still an alcoholic, even though they stop drinking, right?
Yet, I needed more evidence.
A jury is not likely to deliver a verdict,
Hopefully,
Unless it can be carefully substantiated and supported.
So, until I am presented with undeniable proof,
I will continue to believe that it is possible for people to
Change.
Grow.
Evolve.
Even their interior nucleus hub.
Despite my conviction that people are able to change,
Here's what I don't suggest:
That we should have to forget or even overlook.
If we don't want to.
Forgiveness can mean moving forward without someone.
The change might be too late for you (the forgiver),
But it doesn't have to be too late for the other person (the changer).
It's possible to stand back, watch, and genuniely applaud the change without
Putting yourself back into the mix.
On that thought,
And, with the recent movie release of Eat, Pray, Love,
Which I look forward to watching this week.
I will sleep on my favorite quote.
A paragraph, on page 122, that I dog-eared.
It struck a chord with me, and it continues to resonate.
“The Yogic path is about disentangling the built-in glitches of the human condition, which I’m going to over-simply define here as the heartbreaking inability to sustain contentment. Different schools of thought over the centuries have found different explanations for man’s apparently inherently flawed state. Taoists call in imbalance, Buddhism calls it ignorance, Islam blames our misery on rebellion against God and the Judeo-Christian tradition attributes all our suffering to original sin. Freudians say that unhappiness is the inevitable result of the clash between our natural drives and civilization’s needs. (As my friend Deborah the psychologist explains it: “Desire is the design flaw.”) The Yogis, however, say that human discontentment is a simple case of mistaken identity. We’re miserable because we think that we are mere individuals alone with our fears and flaws and resentments and mortality. We wrongly believe that our limited little egos constitute our whole entire nature. We have failed to recognize our deeper divine character. We don’t realize that, somewhere within us all, there does exist a supreme Self who is eternally at peace.”
A minor addiction.
Are there such things as slight sicknesses or minor addictions?
Hazy, hollow disclaimers.
Attempts to downplay.
Smoke screens.
I thought today that maybe it was time to put my words away.
Too revealing??
My old self...
Would have gotten cold feet and withdrawn
Into the safety of the familiar hermit shell.
But today, I slammed the door in the face of this mind bully.
I am stronger than you now.
Every time I plant my foot down in a jog around the lake,
Spend the night alone, in this cottage folded into edge of the woods,
Complete another home improvement project,
I stomp, smash, and squelch those old fears,
I deal with uncertainty.
Get a little more comfortable in my own skin.
Anymore, I don’t worry so much about making mistakes.
That doesn’t mean I am becoming complacent or apathetic.
Quite the opposite, I think, or at least hope.
Last night, I had a wandering talk with an old friend.
This person and I politely agreed to disagree.
We respected our differences,
About our deep-seated beliefs,
On whether or not people can ever really change.
My friend said that people can change their behaviors,
But they can never really change their essence.
Their core.
I thought I could relate to where my friend was coming from in their belief.
I mean an alcoholic is still an alcoholic, even though they stop drinking, right?
Yet, I needed more evidence.
A jury is not likely to deliver a verdict,
Hopefully,
Unless it can be carefully substantiated and supported.
So, until I am presented with undeniable proof,
I will continue to believe that it is possible for people to
Change.
Grow.
Evolve.
Even their interior nucleus hub.
Despite my conviction that people are able to change,
Here's what I don't suggest:
That we should have to forget or even overlook.
If we don't want to.
Forgiveness can mean moving forward without someone.
The change might be too late for you (the forgiver),
But it doesn't have to be too late for the other person (the changer).
It's possible to stand back, watch, and genuniely applaud the change without
Putting yourself back into the mix.
On that thought,
And, with the recent movie release of Eat, Pray, Love,
Which I look forward to watching this week.
I will sleep on my favorite quote.
A paragraph, on page 122, that I dog-eared.
It struck a chord with me, and it continues to resonate.
“The Yogic path is about disentangling the built-in glitches of the human condition, which I’m going to over-simply define here as the heartbreaking inability to sustain contentment. Different schools of thought over the centuries have found different explanations for man’s apparently inherently flawed state. Taoists call in imbalance, Buddhism calls it ignorance, Islam blames our misery on rebellion against God and the Judeo-Christian tradition attributes all our suffering to original sin. Freudians say that unhappiness is the inevitable result of the clash between our natural drives and civilization’s needs. (As my friend Deborah the psychologist explains it: “Desire is the design flaw.”) The Yogis, however, say that human discontentment is a simple case of mistaken identity. We’re miserable because we think that we are mere individuals alone with our fears and flaws and resentments and mortality. We wrongly believe that our limited little egos constitute our whole entire nature. We have failed to recognize our deeper divine character. We don’t realize that, somewhere within us all, there does exist a supreme Self who is eternally at peace.”
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Sullivan County. No Resume Needed.
This blog is simply an experiment.
It’s not a cry for help or attention.
It’s a risk.
A hope for growth and self-discovery.
Cheap therapy, in other words.
I didn’t grow up here, in Sullivan County.
But, most people who know anything about me,
(And, this is easy because I am not overly shy...
Obviously,
Or else I wouldn't be plastering my life,
Maybe like a fool,
On the Internet)
Know that I believe there was a larger force involved when I decided to make a commitment to stay and put my roots down.
Back story.
I’ll try to paint a picture with words.
These are the things you won’t find here: strip malls, Wal-Marts, or fast-food joints.
A single red light hangs within the entire county.
The chance of snow exists virtually any month of the year.
Well, almost.
That’s a bit of a hyperbole...
Unless you live in Lopez, "The Ice Box of Pennsylvania."
Let's just say that last year it snowed before Halloween and after April Fool's Day.
Moving on...
We are graced by not one, but two breathtaking state parks.
Oodles of campsites and camps.
No, those two words are not necessarily synonymous.
Multiple tracts of state game lands.
Numerous lakes…some spring fed, some man-made.
Curious geological formations.
My favorite, Ticklish Rock, must have been named by a wordsmith.
Tumbling waterfalls.
Crystal clear streams.
Swimming holes.
Plenty of overlooks to enjoy a sunset or sunrise.
Hence, the nickname, “Endless Mountains.”
Covered bridges.
Vaulted bridges to plunge from into the cold, clean mountain runoff.
Historical landmarks.
Ghost towns.
Mining, logging, and train-track scars.
Plenty of wildlife.
Five kinds of roads: paved roads, dirt roads, winding roads, back roads, and off-roads.
Trails of every hue: hiking, snowmobiling, cross-country skiing, fourwheeling, and horseback riding.
A few farms.
Lots of trees.
Some wineries.
A dinner theatre.
Founder's Day.
Heritage Day.
Fairs and Carnivals.
Hunting festivals.
Winterfest rituals involving “Polar Bear Plunges.”
An ice-chute, toboggan slide, that will pelt you out onto a frozen lake.
Victorian Teas.
Art shows.
Plenty of restaurants, delis, roadhouses, cafes, general stores, inns, shoppes, taverns, and diners that serve delicious cuisine and offer handmade treasures.
Sounds like culture to me.
And, the people here are just as special.
For your enlightenment, there exists a plethora of educational programs via 4-H, The Penn State Extension Office, Conservation District, State Park Specialists, and seasoned community members.
Many people are shocked to learn that there is only ONE school district here.
Kindergarten through Twelfth grades consisted of fewer than 700 students in 2009.
My bias will surely shine through in the next anecdote.
I once unintentionally eavesdropped on two gentleman,
From a swanky suberb near Philadelphia,
At a local eatery,
During hunting season.
I heard them say, "The school district here isn't very good."
I instantly cringed, but bit my tongue.
A million defenses brewed like fire in my mind, but I am a peacekeeper.
I prefer to avoid conflict, unless it is absolutely necessary.
In my limited experience, it usually isn't (necessary, that is).
Back to the lighthearted nature of this post...
What makes Sullivan County so superb!
Creative minds have invented and preserved peculiar traditions, such as “ The Turtle Races,” “Outhouse Races,” “Keg-a-Roll Races,” and floating rubber duck races.
I guess the natives sure do like their races!
Even though I cannot be coined a “local,” I love these traditions just the same.
Who wouldn’t?
The legacy is rich here.
These people harbor family-values, work ethic, humility, pride, loyalty, humor, and generosity.
Many people would “give the shirts off their backs,” for a friend or even a stranger.
This means something because most of the indigenous people are not wealthy.
I know there are always exceptions to these statements.
But, I feel somewhat legitimate in making these generalizations.
Not just because I am an eternal optimist.
But, also because I have lived in urban areas, and taught in other school districts, and I have NEVER felt the way I feel here.
I don't think I can properly credit the inhabitants that have welcomed and embraced me,
Even though I am technically an outsider.
My theory is that the residents understand how important it is to have a sense of community.
And, they don’t sit back on their haunches.
How many people are able to live full-time in a place of their dreams?
I’m not really sure of the answer to my own question.
My hypothesis is "not very many."
So, I know I am LUCKY!!
And, yet, this place, that refers to itself as “SULCO” (an abbreviated version of Sullivan County), and of which I now call “home” is not that dichotomously different than my own neighboring land of upbringing.
Maybe that’s why I appreciate it so much.
I mean, how many other places, maybe even in this country, refer to themselves as a “county” versus a town or city?
That was bizarre to me, at first.
Now it’s just another endearing idiosyncrasy.
But, mostly what I love about this tremendous wedge of land,
Is the peace and quiet.
Serenity.
Heaven on Earth.
I hope, no pray, that the essence of this land can remain intact.
It’s not a cry for help or attention.
It’s a risk.
A hope for growth and self-discovery.
Cheap therapy, in other words.
I didn’t grow up here, in Sullivan County.
But, most people who know anything about me,
(And, this is easy because I am not overly shy...
Obviously,
Or else I wouldn't be plastering my life,
Maybe like a fool,
On the Internet)
Know that I believe there was a larger force involved when I decided to make a commitment to stay and put my roots down.
Back story.
I’ll try to paint a picture with words.
These are the things you won’t find here: strip malls, Wal-Marts, or fast-food joints.
A single red light hangs within the entire county.
The chance of snow exists virtually any month of the year.
Well, almost.
That’s a bit of a hyperbole...
Unless you live in Lopez, "The Ice Box of Pennsylvania."
Let's just say that last year it snowed before Halloween and after April Fool's Day.
Moving on...
We are graced by not one, but two breathtaking state parks.
Oodles of campsites and camps.
No, those two words are not necessarily synonymous.
Multiple tracts of state game lands.
Numerous lakes…some spring fed, some man-made.
Curious geological formations.
My favorite, Ticklish Rock, must have been named by a wordsmith.
Tumbling waterfalls.
Crystal clear streams.
Swimming holes.
Plenty of overlooks to enjoy a sunset or sunrise.
Hence, the nickname, “Endless Mountains.”
Covered bridges.
Vaulted bridges to plunge from into the cold, clean mountain runoff.
Historical landmarks.
Ghost towns.
Mining, logging, and train-track scars.
Plenty of wildlife.
Five kinds of roads: paved roads, dirt roads, winding roads, back roads, and off-roads.
Trails of every hue: hiking, snowmobiling, cross-country skiing, fourwheeling, and horseback riding.
A few farms.
Lots of trees.
Some wineries.
A dinner theatre.
Founder's Day.
Heritage Day.
Fairs and Carnivals.
Hunting festivals.
Winterfest rituals involving “Polar Bear Plunges.”
An ice-chute, toboggan slide, that will pelt you out onto a frozen lake.
Victorian Teas.
Art shows.
Plenty of restaurants, delis, roadhouses, cafes, general stores, inns, shoppes, taverns, and diners that serve delicious cuisine and offer handmade treasures.
Sounds like culture to me.
And, the people here are just as special.
For your enlightenment, there exists a plethora of educational programs via 4-H, The Penn State Extension Office, Conservation District, State Park Specialists, and seasoned community members.
Many people are shocked to learn that there is only ONE school district here.
Kindergarten through Twelfth grades consisted of fewer than 700 students in 2009.
My bias will surely shine through in the next anecdote.
I once unintentionally eavesdropped on two gentleman,
From a swanky suberb near Philadelphia,
At a local eatery,
During hunting season.
I heard them say, "The school district here isn't very good."
I instantly cringed, but bit my tongue.
A million defenses brewed like fire in my mind, but I am a peacekeeper.
I prefer to avoid conflict, unless it is absolutely necessary.
In my limited experience, it usually isn't (necessary, that is).
Back to the lighthearted nature of this post...
What makes Sullivan County so superb!
Creative minds have invented and preserved peculiar traditions, such as “ The Turtle Races,” “Outhouse Races,” “Keg-a-Roll Races,” and floating rubber duck races.
I guess the natives sure do like their races!
Even though I cannot be coined a “local,” I love these traditions just the same.
Who wouldn’t?
The legacy is rich here.
These people harbor family-values, work ethic, humility, pride, loyalty, humor, and generosity.
Many people would “give the shirts off their backs,” for a friend or even a stranger.
This means something because most of the indigenous people are not wealthy.
I know there are always exceptions to these statements.
But, I feel somewhat legitimate in making these generalizations.
Not just because I am an eternal optimist.
But, also because I have lived in urban areas, and taught in other school districts, and I have NEVER felt the way I feel here.
I don't think I can properly credit the inhabitants that have welcomed and embraced me,
Even though I am technically an outsider.
My theory is that the residents understand how important it is to have a sense of community.
And, they don’t sit back on their haunches.
How many people are able to live full-time in a place of their dreams?
I’m not really sure of the answer to my own question.
My hypothesis is "not very many."
So, I know I am LUCKY!!
And, yet, this place, that refers to itself as “SULCO” (an abbreviated version of Sullivan County), and of which I now call “home” is not that dichotomously different than my own neighboring land of upbringing.
Maybe that’s why I appreciate it so much.
I mean, how many other places, maybe even in this country, refer to themselves as a “county” versus a town or city?
That was bizarre to me, at first.
Now it’s just another endearing idiosyncrasy.
But, mostly what I love about this tremendous wedge of land,
Is the peace and quiet.
Serenity.
Heaven on Earth.
I hope, no pray, that the essence of this land can remain intact.
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